


We've Come So Far

by aquatarius



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Healing, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:46:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatarius/pseuds/aquatarius
Summary: Dirk Strider and Damara Megido, the Bro and the Handmaid, make progress.Squeal to The Handmaid's First crush.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Handmaid's First Crush](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8538253) by [aquatarius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatarius/pseuds/aquatarius). 



Silence was deeply important to Dirk Strider. It hadn’t always been. Hell, he’d lived in the middle of the city - He hadn’t gotten silence for a long time. But there was always that cackling in the back of his mind, too, the whispers of Lil Cal, of the people that controlled Lil Cal. That was the noise he was concerned with.

 

Now it was silent, inside his head, and out. He’d picked silence over company and had never once regretted that choice. The others, Lalonde and Harley and Egbert, they...Tried to take care of him sometimes. It didn’t often go well. Just because he was withdrawn didn’t mean he couldn’t take care of him fucking self. They’d given up, eventually. 

 

Only, it did, and he...he knew that. 

 

And She knew it, too. The Handmaid, his...his...Well, his moirail, that’s what she would’ve called herself. They were moirails. Best friends, so to speak, except they’re not afraid to kick your ass back into line when it gets out of line. 

 

Dirk loved her. Not, in the romantic sense, of course. He loved her like he thought people might love an awesome older sister or a favorite badass aunt. Not that he’d ever been one to talk when it came to  _ family _ . 

 

The point was, that she respected his need for silence. The Handmaid was damn quiet herself. Quiet in a sort of ‘I might murder you in a moment’ way. Most of the time, they didn’t need to speak to get their point across. 

 

Like now. They were curled up together, bodies pressed so close it was almost like they were one. It had taken so  _ long _ for them to get over their respective aversion to being touched. It had taken Dirk longer, probably because he wasn’t so smitten as she was. He pressed his face into her hair and squeezed onto her and wondered how the  _ fuck _ that could’ve been. He had to have been blind. (He  _ was _ , blind with pain at losing Lil Cal, and feeling like he failed in his mission to prepare Dave.)

 

Silence was important, but the issue was that silence led to boredom. And he was very, very bored. Unhealthy, and bored, and quiet, and screwed up in the head. A prize for anyone who wanted a moirail who was more work than they were worth. 

 

 “Hey,” Damara whispered, twisting her hand around to stroke his side. “What’s the matter?” 

 

 “Just thinkin’.” Strider drawled quietly. 

 

 “About what?” Ah, silence - so sweet, so temporary. He sighed. 

 

 “I dunno. Us.” He stroked her hand in return, and then curled his fingers around it and squeezed. “Permission to speak candidly, ma’am?”

 

 “Permission granted.”

 

 “I’m glad you found me. You being around makes me less bored”

 

 Silence, again. Then, she chuckled quietly and squirmed around until they were facing each other. 

 

 “What’s brought on this sudden emotion?” She asked, tipping her head to the side. 

 

 “Fuck you, I always show emotion.”

 

 The Handmaid quirked an eyebrow, and Strider huffed at her. 

 

 “I show emotion, all right?” He snapped. She chuckled and pressed a kiss to his nose. He wrinkled said nose at her. “Damara, quit it. That’s my face.”

 

 “I’m not allowed to show my own moirail affection.” She said, but she obeyed and pressed her face into his collarbone instead.

 

 “Your teeth hurt my face.”

 

 “Liar.”   
  


 Strider didn’t respond. She always seemed one step ahead of him in the healing process, always willing and wanting to do one or two things more than he was. It was  _ infuriating _ , and it always made him feel...lacking. Behind. Always trying to catch up. 

 

 No one had made him feel like that in his entire life. 

 

 But it also made him want to heal. It gave him the will, feeding his need to be better, stronger, faster, braver, than  _ anyone _ . The reason behind that attitude had faded in the eternity that he’d spent in the dream bubbles, but the attitude remained. 

 

 Maybe Damara knew that, and that’s why she pushed herself to become better then him. It was a beautiful dance of pushing and pulling each other into healing. 

 

 He squeezed onto her and nuzzled her hair. She smelled like green tea and cherry blossoms. But also blood, and sweat, and dirt, and grease. She’d muddled her scents together to create something that had whiffs of the Lord’s Handmaiden, but was also deeply, completely, her own. 

 

 “I love you.” Dirk said. Silence didn’t seem so important at the moment. Not as important as Damara knowing, for sure. 

 

 “That’s sweet.” She mumbled. She was mostly muted because her face was pressed into him, duh, but she was somewhat telligible. 

 

 Dirk snorted and pulled gently on her hair. 

 

* * *

 

 

 Months passed. They passed slowly, and in a haze. Strider spent too many days staring out of a window doing nothing. There was nothing  _ to _ do there. Damara sat with him often. She talked sometimes, telling him about Alternia, and he’d tell her about Earth. He never talked about Dave, though, and Damara never told him a thing about the people she worked for. 

 

 One night, they sat on a couch together, staring out a window into the nothingness that made up the places between the bubbles. 

 

 “Do you think it’ll be like this forever?” Strider asked. Damara didn’t reply, so he kept talking. “Wasting eternity away, never knowing if we failed or succeeded?” 

 

 “No.” Damara said. “I think there will be an end. I don’t know when. It’s been forever, but, it hasn’t been any time at all, either.”

 

 “Time doesn’t make any sense.” Strider had heart her say it enough times to know that’s what she would say if he pointed out that it didn’t make any sense. 

 

 “That’s right.” She said, and laid her head on his shoulder. 

 

* * *

 

 More time passed. Damara started to take Strider out. It started slow, easy, just walking around the house. It wasn’t weird enough to be out of the ordinary. Getting fresh air was nice, enjoyable, and getting out of the house was. Well, it was  _ great _ . It was as if she’d once again understood that if he spent too many more hours in boredom, the edges of him that they’d pieced back together would start to crack again. 

 

 As time ticked by, ununderstable by those who weren’t intimately connected by time, Strider went out more. She dragged him further and further away from the house, until they reached strange blue plains and purple trees. Other houses appeared, and she walked him around them, and then back home. The walks grew longer, and it wasn’t long before they would spend several days away from home. 

 

 It was exciting, and new, and something that gave Strider something to focus on. But, quiet, too. No one bothered them. The most noise they heard was wind and sometimes animals. Quiet, but exciting turned out to be everything that Strider needed on the next leg of his healing. Muscles that had fallen into disuse became strong again. His cheeks gained color. He started taking care of his hair again, and clothes that never got changed were regularly changed now. 

 

Sometimes, he wondered if Damara knew just how much she was helping. He decided she was. After all, she was his moirail. She probably knew  _ exactly _ what she was doing. 

 

* * *

 

 One night, just returned from one of their adventures, Strider flopped onto a bean bag. Damara undid her hair, letting it fall about her shoulders, and then dropped into his lap.

 

 “Wow, okay, I guess we’re just going to crush me to death.” Strider said. Damara smirked and rolled her eyes.

 

 “So dramatic.” She said. She shook her head, and something soft and sweet bloomed in Strider’s chest. He felt as if he was being filled up with love, so intense and strong that he couldn’t hold it in. 

 

 He kissed her on the cheek, gently, carefully. She looked at him, surprise written across her face, and he risked a small smile. She smiled back, shaky and weak. 

 

 “Damara? Is everything al-”

 

 “Yes. Yes, Dirk, everything is  _ wonderful _ .” She whispered. She pressed her forehead against his, and sighed quietly. “I’m so glad we’ve come so far.”

  
 “Me too.” Strider said, winding his arms around her. “Me too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my part of a trade with someone on tumblr. They wanted a squeal to The Handmaid's First crush, so here it is!


End file.
